The Game of Cards
by HorcruxCharisma
Summary: A gift from France and a new spark at love. Trust is not an option in this Court and the execution block is only around the corner. A turn of events will test the rules of this game — and not everyone likes to follow those. full summary inside!
1. A Gift from France

**Full Summary:: **_England and France are on edge once again and everyone at Court can tell. King Francis, with only a purpose of luring King Henry into a state of peace, sends the Gypsies to his Court. Henry accepts this gift with hesitation, and grows to take a liking to the mysterious, talented Gypsy people. They have brought a whole new life to his Court. However, Henry isn't the only one that sees the beauty in these people — Charles Brandon finds himself in a unbinding trance with a particular Gypsy woman. But when a certain man by the name of Claude Frollo turns up in England, he will stop at no means to pursuade the King to finish off the likes of every Gypsy in the kingdom by framing Clopin and Esmeralda, making Henry believe she was only sent by the King of France to seduce her way through Court and take down his kingdom from the inside out. Will Charles Brandon be able to find a way to save Esmeralda from execution — or will Henry's rath strike again?_

A/N: **a total crack-couple! Esmeralda and Charles Brandon? yeah, this idea had been on my mind for quite some time. i love both characters dearly, and i thought: hey? why not mash up the stories a bit? **

**so, this is what you get! and frankly, i've been wondering if anyone else is as curious as i am about this crack-couple madness . . . **

**anyway, a few words: this _does _take place around season 4 of the Tudors. however, while writing, i found myself picturing Charles the way he looked in season 2-3, which was around the time i thought he looked the best. (ha, like he ever looks anything but!) so, feel free to picture the man in whatever form — beard or scruff, long hair or short hair. either way. the only reason i did _not_ place these events in any other time frame was because the whole French-English tension fit perfectly and Charles was going through that mess with his wife, Katherine and etc etc. it just worked, ok? lol. i'm sorry if you disagree. **

**i really do home at least some one enjoys this. oh, and i do not own these characters or the movie/show! **

* * *

**A Gift From France**

* * *

"You're Majesty, the French Ambassador."

Henry glanced up from his place on the decorated throne. His blue eyes became alert at the announcement that came from his doorman. The King watched as the doors opened and the Ambassador made his way through, chin held high with pride. This sort of attitude made Henry grit his teeth together, his jaw twitching in the process. "Ambassador." Henry managed.

Ambassador Charles de Marillac gave a low bow, "Your Highness."

"What news have you for me today?" Henry asked, eager to get this conversation over with.

The Ambassador cleared his throat, "King Francis would like to offer his Majesty a gift."

Henry barked a laugh, "A _gift_? And what sort of 'gift' is this?"

"A token of peace, Your Majesty." Charles kept his eyes to the floor while in the presence of the King. At least, during _this_ particular meeting. "It seems that King Francis believes he might be able to work for a certain point of agreement by, perhaps, showering Your Highness with gifts from his country."

Henry leaned forward in his large seat, his lips curving with amusement. "You can tell your master I will not back down with just simple French perks. He can keep his gifts—and I shall keep my dignity."

The Ambassador swallowed the lump in his throat at the tone the King took with him. "Your Majesty, might I add that this is not just any gift. King Francis has presented something that not just the royal family may enjoy—but your entire Court, as well."

"Oh?" Charles gave a small nod and a tight smile. "And what am I inclined to do in exchange?"

"Nothing, Your Highness." Charles answered, tight lipped. "My master only asks you enjoy what he gives and, that in time, our countries might be in peace once again."

Henry sat back in his throne with a sigh. "That is asking a lot, Your Excellency." He paused and thought, starring holes into the floor beneath his boots. "I suppose I may accept this mystery gift." The Ambassador rose his eyes to meet the King's then. "But this is just the beginning and send word to King Francis that this does_ not_ conclude our business. I have given grace and I do not intend to make hobby of it."

The Ambassador gave a grateful bow and made his exit, the King watching intently until the wooden doors were shut once more. A gift? Well, there was plenty need for a lighter mood among his Court. The tension between France and England had caused much glum throughout the kingdom. It was time for a change.

* * *

The sun had set and the Court's people were dancing happily along each other. Alas, it did not seem to be as alive as Henry had once seen his Court. There wasn't much he could expect. His queen danced along other women, including the Duke of Somerset's wife, and that was enough. She was joyful and brightened with a pleasant smile. Her long blonde locks swayed along with her movements and the King could not seem to decline the smile that grew across his aging features.

The Court was decorated with fine banners and food was laid about its tables in a great buffet. The music played wistfully and overtook the crowd's laughter and conversations. Many drank their wine while they joined in a dance and others played games.

Near one of the long tables, Edward Seymour stood stiff and watched over the crowd—particularly his wife. The one and only person he seemed to have the hardest time trusting. His thoughts trailed on but were put to a halt when the Duke of Suffolk made his way beside Edward and offered him a goblet of wine. "Your Grace." He said calmly.

Edward forced a smile. "Thank you." He took the wine gratefully and took a gulp. Charles Brandon noticed the amount his fellow Duke had taken and cocked a brow.

"Are you feeling alright?" He asked, not that he rather cared for Edward Seymour, but it was still polite to ask.

"What? Oh, yes, I am fine, Your Grace." Edward lied. "It seems I am deep in thought this night." Edward kept his eyes out to the dancing crowd, shooting invisible daggers at his loathing wife.

Charles followed the glare and saw Anne Stanhope, craning her head back as she laughed at what one of the men of Court had said. He took another glance at Edward and then back at Anne. Nothing ever seemed to change around here. Perhaps he wasn't the only one having wife-dilemmas.

"Have you heard, Your Grace?" Edward spoke up, taking another gulp of wine. Charles listened and the two men kept their eyes roaming over the crowd as their conversation continued. "His Majesty has accepted a gift from the King of France." Edward chuckled a bit.

Confused, Charles looked over at Edward. Was it the wine talking? How is it he hadn't heard of this news? "What are you talking about?"

Edward licked his wine tainted lips and shifted his weight casually. "King Francis has offered His Majesty a gift—one of which he accepted. It seems Ambassador Charles de Marillac has worked his charm once again." There was a pause and Edward cleared his throat. "Nevertheless, Your Grace, I'm sure the decision was a good one and may there be many more good ones to come!"

Charles gave a short nod with a fake smile plastered across his face. He had doubts. He was greatly unsure about this. _A gift_? _What sort of gift_? There was a bit of worry that grew in the pit of Charles' stomach. The King made his own choices, yes. However, that didn't mean he always thought them through first. Not that Charles himself was a master at such a task—but regardless, this was the King Francis he was accepting the gift from.

The two large wooden doors closing in the space, opened, and the French Ambassador stepped through with ease. He made his way down the isle as people stepped out of his way. The room grew awfully quiet and Charles—still standing along side Edward and his own response to the arrival of the Ambassador—watched thoroughly.

The Ambassador stopped a few steps away from the King on his throne and bowed. "Your Majesty."

"Ambassador!" Henry said, his chin resting against his hand.

Charles de Marillac had a smug smile across his face, his hands neatly folded in front of him. "I have come baring the gift from His Highness, King Francis." The Ambassador stepped aside and outstretched a hand towards the doors that had already shut. "Your Majesty—the Gypsies."

Everyone's attention turned to the sudden outbreak of people, scattering through the opening doors, dressed in odd clothing. Their skin was a brown color, off all shades, and they came in sizes from big to small. Some carried instruments while others wore masks with strange faces. Music began playing and the people—the 'Gypsies'—weaved their way through the English people, as if rehearsed.

Charles looked over at the King and the Ambassador, standing calmly and watching the scene before them. Henry looked skeptical, the opposite of Catherine Howard, now sitting beside him with wide eyes and parted lips. Charles tore his eyes away from the King and Queen and exchanged a look with Edward, who looked just as skeptical as Henry.

Another strange looking man with dark features, a large nose, and hair on his chin made his way forward, a wide grin across his face, but all the more mysterious with the mask surrounding his dark eyes. He removed his hat and made a low bow, jumping then back into his straight stance and said, "Your Majesty! What a pleasure!" He said, the grin never leaving his presence.

Charles, keeping his eyes on the skinny man from his place, instinctively moved his hand down to the hilt of his sword. These people weren't like he had seen before—and he'd been many places.

"And who might you be?" Asked the King, narrowing his eyes slightly.

The man put a hand across his chest humbly, "I'm Clopin, Your Majesty, King of the Gypsies!"

Henry looked at the Ambassador and then back at Clopin, laughing earnestly. "King of the Gypsies, you say? Well then! Have a drink, my friend!" Henry smiled and gestured for Culpepper to hand the guest a drink.

Looking back out across the people, Henry saw they were laughing and dancing all the more. Gypsies were everywhere, challenging his people to let loose and enjoy themselves. The Gypsy people had cards with them, which they moved around in a very odd fashion. They juggled knives and breathed fire. There were men that were hoisted up on tall, narrow sticks, appearing to be giants. Many of the women had their faces painted in odd colors—purple lips and golden cheeks. Henry noticed their clothing wasn't as collected nor fashionable as the French. "You say these people come from France, Ambassador?"

Ambassador Marillac looked up at the King, "Yes, Your Highness." He answered, uncertain of the reasoning behind the sudden question.

"You lie." Henry snapped, but not necessarily angry with the Frenchman.

"I—" Marillac cleared his throat, quickly changing his tone. "The Gypsies are, indeed, from France—"

Clopin let his fingers wiggle in the air, "You are correct, Your Majesty—we are not from France. We live in France, and we do enjoy its pleasures. But we did not _originate_ there."

Henry held the Gypsy's stare and remained silent for a moment, sitting back in his throne while he picked at the hair on his cheek. Marillac looked at Clopin with a stoned face, never making it seem he had been cut off by the likes of a Gypsy, but holding himself like a true man with much power. "Where is it then, that you come from?"

"Egypt." Clopin smile grew a bit wider and he took a sip of his wine.

This caught the King's interest. "Egypt?"

Clopin gave a sturdy nod and looked out at his people, entertaining at their best. "May I introduce you to my dear friend—" Clopin looked back at the King, a sense of amusement in his eye and a grin across his face. "—Esmeralda."

Charles had been listening intently and noticed there seemed to be a pause among the Gypsies. They had stopped and turned to face the center of the crowd. The English people looked around, seeming highly confused. Charles braced himself for what was about to happen next.

When the music stopped next, Edward looked around, "What do you suppose is going on?" He asked in a whispered tone.

Charles hadn't a clue. "I—"

Suddenly, all eyes widened at the large purple cloud of smoke. Noises of awe echoed through the English men and women, some covered their mouths in utter shock. Guardsmen braced themselves, but stood back when they only saw a woman.

A very beautiful woman.

This Gypsy was wearing a red dress, complimenting her vibrant emerald eyes. She wore a gold hoop through one ear and two others on her wrist and ankle. Her lips a perfect ruby color against her own brown skin. The King studied this woman as she danced, fast and smooth movements. Her stomach rolled perfectly in her dance and she did several jumps and spins. Other Gypsies joined, but the focus seemed to be on her only.

The King, however, was not the only one that seemed to be eying down this woman—this _Esmeralda_. Charles Brandon kept his head high, refusing himself to melt into the seductive heat seeping out from the Gypsy. Her face alone seemed to catch every man's eye in the crowd. Her dance was enough to have them on their knees.

Edward began to speak over the new fast pace music, "She is . . . cunning." He had hesitated with the last word, but didn't stress over it. He finished off his wine and watched the performance with low eyes.

Charles watched as her thick, dark curls bounced throughout the dance. Her feet were bare and light against the wooden floor. With a few spins and turns, the woman was up on a table and flipped in the air, landing in the exact spot next to Edward.

Startled, Edward tried not to stumble back, but almost failed. Esmeralda saw through his stern expression and wrapped a silky scarf around his neck. Edward's lips parted and she gave him a small kiss on the cheek, unraveling her scarf as she swayed away back towards the people.

Charles couldn't help but chuckle at the look across Edward's face. Edward had tried to look unfazed, but hid a smile towards the ground. His cheeks rose with color and he appeared to be a bit wobbly in the knees. Charles patted the Duke on the back and looked back to the Gypsy. She gave a sideways glance and granted Charles a wink, making his eyes dart away instantly.

When the dance ended, the King clapped with a large smile across his lips. The Queen looked a little uncertain at the King's affection but clapped regardless. Ambassador Marillac seemed pleased and thankful the gift from France delivered quite fine.

Esmeralda bowed in front of the King and smiled, putting herself at Clopin's side. The man gave a small smile and pushed back some of his—rather tired looking—friend's heavy curls from her naked shoulder. Her chest was heaving for air, but she didn't let that let her look weak in the presence of royalty. She had been taught well. Everything was to work for her advantage. "Beautiful, my friend." Clopin whispered, placing his hand at the small of her back.

Esmeralda glanced up at him, "Thank you." She replied and put her attention back towards the King of England. "Your Majesty."

Henry was smiling, chuckling softly to himself. "Marvelous!" He looked out to the crowd, "Was it not?" The people clapped and shouted in agreement.

Clopin took a step forward and removed his hat once more. "We thank His Majesty for allowing us to perform here in Court. We pay thee much respect."

"You'll have to return tomorrow night then!" Henry responded without hesitation. "I am sure we would all look forward to seeing more of your people—the Gypsies."

* * *

A/N: **please let me know what you guys think! thanks! :)**


	2. Unusual Woman

**Unusual Woman **

* * *

Several nights passed, and with each sunset, the Gypsies would come to Court and entertain better than the night before. The English people had grown quite accustom to the costumes and upbeat music. They danced and danced until they could stand no longer. It seemed, to the King, his Court nights had grown in population over the past few nights, more than he'd seen before. Even the Lady Mary seemed to enjoy herself a little more than before.

King Francis had gifted Henry with a new way of life. Maybe he was worth something, after all.

"Charles." Henry sighed and sat towards the edge of his seat. On this particular night, he had grown tired rather quickly. His leg had become a bother halfway through Clopin's performance with a group of singing Gypsies. It pained him to admit he would have to retire for the night, but there was always tomorrow to come.

Charles Brandon walked wistfully over to the King's side and gave a short bow. "Your Majesty."

"I'd like to retire for the night." Henry said with a sigh. "Please make sure our guests are well suited in the new chambers I have provided. They do not know it yet, but I have decided their tents are not enough in this weather. They shall stay in the palace from now on." Henry stood then and gathered himself straight. "Oh, and make sure the _Mademoiselle_ Esmeralda receives the gifts I have purchased for her lovely performances. _Monsieur_ Clopin, as well."

Charles nodded and bowed at the King's exit, as did the rest of Court when they were informed of his retirement.

* * *

The Duke watched as Esmeralda was lead into her new chambers. The room was large and had only the finest decorations, not as elegant as the queen, but Charles guessed it was just the more beautiful to a Gypsy anyway.

Esmeralda ran her hands over the fabricated curtains and looked back at the Duke of Suffolk, standing at the door with a tight expression. She wondered what he would look like if he didn't always look like a stiff tree. He had dreamless eyes, bright and humble. His jaw was always firm, but also smooth looking beneath the scruff on his cheeks. The Duke's lips always spread nicely against his teeth when he talked, Esmeralda had come to see. She had also noticed he never seemed to be very happy.

"Is this all for me?" She asked aloud, possibly more to herself than to the Duke. Before he could attempt to answer, she turned to him once again, "What am I supposed to do with all this space during the day?"

"Do you play cards, M'lady?" Charles asked flatly. "Perhaps we could arrange some of the mistresses to join you in—"

"No." Esmeralda ran her fingers over the clothes lying upon her new bed. "That is not what I meant—" She took a quick pause. "—Your Grace." She had never referred to anyone by that title. The words were foreign against her tongue, as she was in this country.

Charles quirked a brow as he watched her examine more of her new belongings. "May I ask what it is you meant then?"

Esmeralda turned to him. "I won't be present in this room during the day, Your Grace." She explained evenly. "My people and I will be on the streets of England, working. Everyone must earn their own pay in some way, right? There is no purpose for this much space for one woman, surely."

"You have no need to worry, M'lady." Charles chuckled lightly. "The King has provided you with all your needs. As were those dresses there on the bed. He purchased them in the French fashion, so that you might find them more suitable."

Esmeralda glanced back at the dresses. "Yes, I am truly grateful to His Majesty for the dresses. They are lovely." She tucked some of her wild curls behind her pierced ear. "It is only that I would like to purchase my own clothes. I would not like the feeling of relying on someone else for what I may need. The security of having my life resting in my own hands is one of my deepest pleasures, Your Grace."

The Duke realized then—this woman was not like most. "Shall I send word of this to the King, M'lady?" He tried to think of something else to keep him from smiling, but the way this Gypsy's eyes brightened tempted him to do otherwise.

"No, Your Grace." Esmeralda smiled, and Charles saw how full and soft her lips appeared to be then. "Knowing you understand is enough. If we are to return home, I shall give the gifts back to His Majesty. For now, I will keep them in my chambers and use the money I earn from the English people to buy my own clothes."

Clopin arrived at the door before Charles could say no more. "Ah, Your Grace!" Clopin greeted with a toothy smile. "Are you well?"

Charles smiled a bit uncomfortably. The King of the Gypsies—as he called himself—was a nice man, but also very kept to himself. The mystery behind him made Charles feel a bit uneasy. He had a rather hard time trusting just anyone. "Quite well, _Monsieur_."

"Would Your Grace mind if I had a moment with Esmeralda?" Clopin asked, stepping into the room, dressed in his multi-patterned stalkings and bell-tipped shoes.

Charles said, "I pay no mind at all, _Monsieur_." He gave quick glance at Esmeralda before bidding a good day and leaving to carry on his business for the rest of the night.

Once the doors had closed and Charles Brandon was out of sight, Esmeralda took a seat at the small table in the center of her chamber and waited for what Clopin had to say.

"The King has requested an audience with me the day after tomorrow." Clopin smiled and took a seat across from Esmeralda.

Esmeralda lips parted into a disbelieving smile, "Oh? Do you know what for?"

Clopin shook his head, "No, but I'm sure it is for a good cause." He looked around the room. "This is quite something, no?" When he looked at Esmeralda, she only shrugged her shoulders and studied the cloth upon the table beneath her hands. "What did the Duke have to say?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary." Esmeralda said simply. "I do have reason to believe he finds us more strange than the age difference between His Majesty and the Queen." Clopin cracked a smile and Esmeralda returned it.

Clopin stood then and held out his hand, "Well, my friend, I do believe it is time for us to a get a nice rest for tomorrow's day of work."

Esmeralda pulled herself up from her chair and slid her hand in Clopin's. He planted a kiss upon her palm and tipped his hat. Esmeralda let out a small laugh. "I'm no royal, you fool." She gave him a nudge and knowing look.

The Gypsy man chuckled and headed for the door. "Have a pleasant night, Esmeralda."

"Same to you, Clopin." The door shut and Esmeralda was left alone with her new dresses and much to dream about.

* * *

Charles didn't see Esmeralda again until nightfall. When she had said she wouldn't be present during the day—she hadn't lied. Without meaning to, Charles had kept an eye out for the Gypsy through the halls and during meals. Every dark haired woman he found himself taking a second glance at. Yet, there had been no woman of the name Esmeralda at Court that afternoon.

He often wondered what she had meant by receiving her earnings in the English streets. Never did the Duke think she had meant prostitution. He saw the way that woman held herself—whoring around didn't seem like a plausible answer.

Charles sat along the Bishop and other men of Court. He sipped at his wine, but never seemed to taste anything. He watched the people dance and laugh. Though, he was missing something. Clopin and Esmeralda had yet to make an appearance.

Edward stood suddenly and set his goblet down. His wife had been dancing all night. She never seemed to tire and Charles saw it began to bother Edward. His wife had a reputation that was always swept beneath the table. Apparently, her own husband was aware, as well. "I think I shall enjoy a dance before the night ends." He wondered off into the crowd as they paired off to start another dance.

Charles looked at the men sitting near him, talking contently with one another, and he grew restless. Perhaps Edward had a point. His own wife, Katherine, hadn't been seen in days. She did as she pleased and hadn't said more than a few words every couple of days she were to accidentally run into him in the halls back in their home in Suffolk. Charles was half way convinced she had taking a liking to one of their servants. It was set in stone, she no longer loved him. That hadn't surprised Charles any longer. He had once made Katherine happy, by the grace of God maybe another man could do the same. As long as she was happy with _someone_—maybe he could forgive himself for letting her down. Lord knew there were plenty more things Charles had yet to let go, still. And they haunted him night after night.

Standing, Charles made his own way to the dancing group and joined in. He couldn't find the nerve to smile. The women made no hesitation to attempt at dancing with the Duke of Suffolk. As the dance continued on, Charles had danced with several different women, including the Queen, who he had purposely cut their joining short and moved on to the next woman. Henry glanced over at Edward, enjoying himself rather pleasurably. Partners were switched and Charles looked down to see who he would be dancing with next.

"Your Grace."

Esmeralda gave a simple smile and held the Duke's eyes with her own.

Charles' lips parted and he closed them into a tight line quickly. "M'lady." He greeted evenly, though he then began to feel a bit restless again. Esmeralda's palm was outstretched against his own and he noticed she had no intentions of taking her eyes away from his. "I trust your day was pleasant."

Esmeralda answered as they switched directions, following the movements of the typical English dances. "I did." She answered and lifted a thick brow, "And yourself, Your Grace?"

"Just fine," He lied with no signs of fault in his tone. Charles took the moment of quiet, with the exception of music, to look down at what Esmeralda was wearing: one of the King's dresses gifted to her. "You're wearing—"

Esmeralda gave an irritated sigh, "Yes, don't remind me." She said, taking her eyes off him. "Clopin advised it would be wise to at least wear _one _to please the King." She patted down the skirt of her dress with her free hand. "This was the only one I took a liking to."

It looked marvelous against her brown skin and dark hair. The dress was a deep red color with embroider edges and a gold bodice. The corset pushed against her chest, making all the more bosom relieve itself. Charles took note that he could not see her feet now, but knew she probably wore nothing upon them. They were carefree—as was her hair that was still kept a bush of glorious curls. "I'm sure the King finds the dress quite nice, M'lady."

Esmeralda gave him a bland look, "I'm so sure, Your Grace."

As the two did a spin, following in step with the rest of the crowd, Charles cracked a grin. Not many would put it in such words. "Is it too much to say I think you look rather nice in a gift from His Majesty?"

"That would depend, Your Grace." Esmeralda answered, a smirk playing across her lips. "Are you telling me a lie to soften my views on wearing such an outfit on a regular basis or are you just now giving into the fact complimenting me might not be such a terrible thing?"

Charles glanced down at Esmeralda, a bit taken back by her words. "Would it better pleasure you if I complimented you more often, M'lady?"

Esmeralda looked up at the Duke, the dance coming to an end. "No, it would not seem so, Your Grace. These women of your Court seem to thrive and feast off the flattery their husbands and lovers give. I do not think that should be something to live for—the approval of another." She shed a warm smile, "Do not mistake me, Your Grace. Your flattery is much welcomed and thanked, but I do not need it—nor do I particularly care for it."

With her last few words, Esmeralda went on to fulfill her obligations.


	3. Great Opportunities for a Gypsy

**Great Opportunities for a Gypsy**

* * *

King Henry read over some letters when the doorman announced Monsieur Clopin's arrival. Henry looked up with a smile and gestured for the doorman to let him in.

Clopin made his way through, dressed in his typical clothing with different patterns and colors, and bowed, "Your Majesty."

"Please, sit." The King set down the current letter he was reading and watched as the King of the Gypsies took a seat quietly.

Clopin removed his hat and placed it on the table. "Is there something troubling His Majesty regarding my people?"

"Not at all," Henry chuckled, "I've heard that you performed puppet shows back in France for the children, is that true, _Monsieur_?"

Curious as to his reasoning for the question, Clopin smirked, "You are correct, Your Majesty." He sat back in his chair comfortably, mimicking the King's own posture. "I've done many shows and the children took a strong liking to the silly stories. Truth be told, I have done a few shows for some of the children here in England."

Henry couldn't have been happier to hear the news. "I would like to offer you a small job for me, Clopin." He said with a grin. "My son, Edward, has grown a bit restless with his tutors and nurses. I would like you to visit him a few days out of the week, perform a show for him and report back to me after your meetings with him."

Clopin leaned forward in his chair, his smile had faded with disbelief "Me? Your Majesty, I'm—"

"I've grown to trust you, Clopin." Henry said without hesitation. "I believe you'll make a fine entertainer for my son, the Prince of England. Wouldn't you agree?"

Clopin stood and bowed, beyond grateful to the king. "I am honored, Your Majesty."

Henry laughed and stood, patting Clopin on the back. "You'll start this afternoon!"

"Yes, of course," Clopin nodded and slid his hat back on. "Thank you. His Majesty has been very kind to me and my people."

"And I have been truly gifted with such a loving, free-spirited group of people!" Henry sat back in his chair. "Now, off with you! You have much to prepare for!" The King said with a smile and Clopin bowed, making his exit.

* * *

The door was opened by too footmen and Esmeralda was let through into Clopin's chambers. His room was similar to her own, but she didn't take the time to analyze everything. "Clopin, we—" She noticed her friend was packing a bag of trinkets and his puppets he used to earn them money on the streets of England. "What are you doing?" She asked.

Clopin turned around with a smile on his face, "The King has asked me to perform for His Highness, the Prince." He said casually, but excitement dancing in his eyes.

"That's wonderful!" Esmeralda smirked and wondered closer.

"I start this afternoon. I'll be going to perform throughout the week from time to time." Clopin informed her, continuing on with his preparations.

Esmeralda stopped mid-step. "This afternoon? From here on out?"

Clopin glanced back and waved off the skeptical expression across her face. "Oh, don't look so distressed, my friend! This is a good thing—a very good thing!"

"Would you still like us to earn the money in the streets?" She asked slowly, taking a seat in a chair at the table near the window.

Clopin considered it, "I suppose that would be best. But there is no need to do it so often. We are taken care of here, Esmeralda. Don't let the opportunity pass you by." Clopin grabbed his bag and sighed when he saw the way his friend slumped in her chair. He ducked down and slipped his hand to the back side of her head, bringing her closer to him. He placed a brotherly kiss upon her cheek and turned to head towards the door. "I shall see you tonight, my friend."

* * *

Esmeralda walked through the gardens of the palace. The other Gypsies had agreed that without Clopin, they believed it was best to stay inside the kingdom walls for the day until they were called down to Court again for the night. Esmeralda went along and had quickly grew tired of staying in her chambers all afternoon. Without a second glance, she left the comfort of four walls and headed for the fresh air. After all, it was safe here. She was granted that bit of freedom. There was no need to be on watch constantly—there was no need to run.

There were many flowers in the gardens in many different colors. She ran her hands along some and admired others. She had ran into the queen and her ladies in waiting along the path and noticed the look she was given by the royal lady. It wasn't as pleasant as other looks she had received while being here in England. Regardless, Esmeralda bowed and played the role of a polite woman.

Walking on, Esmeralda came across a large fountain and smiled. She placed her hands on its tall edges and looked over, spotting several different kids of fish. They swam in peace and she dipped a finger beneath the water, sending ripples in every direction. Esmeralda stood straight when she grew bored of watching the fish and decided to walk in circles along side the fountain.

Esmeralda closed her eyes and did twirls as she walked, releasing the energy she had bottled up. She felt the gravel beneath her bare feet and closed her eyes. When the challenge of staying a balance on land became too easy, Esmeralda hopped upon the edge of the fountain. She stood tall on the tips of her feet and began to sway around the fountain. She kept her eyes on her feet and her arms outstretched wide. She smiled when she came to a crack in the stone and hopped over it with no problem.

"An amusing sight, truly." Charles stood with his hands behind his back, smirking up at the Gypsy.

Esmeralda stopped and turned to the deep, chill rising voice. She made a 'hmph' noise through closed lips and continued on with her business. "I suspect you have rather more important things to attend to, Your Grace?"

"And you, M'lady?" He said with a chuckle, taking a few steps toward the fountain.

"Nothing of great importance. Not today." Esmeralda answered absently, keeping her attention on the steps she made, careful and slow.

Charles watched her, "What exactly is it you're doing?"

Esmeralda stopped and did a small leap over the same crack she had passed moments ago. "Passing the time, Your Grace." She replied in a flat tone. "What is it _you're_ doing?"

"Intrigued by how a woman, such as yourself, finds walking in circles a nice way to pass the time." The Duke mused, staring up at her with a knowing look across his handsome features.

Esmeralda glared, "I suppose when you're a Gypsy—anything that involves moving would be of ease." She ignored the way he watched her intently and continued on around the fountain. She leaped over the crack once more and leaned down to place her weight on her hands. With a swift movement, she swung her legs over her head and was back on her feet again, walking with a sway to her curvy hips.

Charles smiled and followed her. He walked along the fountain, while she stood several heads taller. "Have you always been that way?" He asked, keeping his eyes forward.

Esmeralda glanced down at him, "As long as I can remember."

"How is it you've ended up here?"

"King Francis sent us as a gift, Your Grace." She answered shortly.

Charles looked up at the woman, "How is it you _really _ended up here, M'lady?"

Esmeralda caught his eyes searching her face for an answer and looked away. She was not uncomfortable under the Duke's eyes, only, she did not want to feel like she owed anybody anything. "That is a bit of a complicated story, Your Grace." She said quietly.

"Do you play cards?" He asked, putting aside the topic that seemed to strike a chord.

"You've asked that before." She pointed out. "I'm guessing you play?"

Charles smirked, "I do."

"To be honest, Your Grace, the cards you play aren't exactly the cards I have been exposed to the majority of my life. We come from two very different worlds and I'm afraid I am not very accustomed to _your _kind of cards."

Charles stopped walking and grew hopeful when Esmeralda did as well. She looked down at him and a grin spread across his lips. "Have lunch with me." He said, more of an order than a question. He felt as he did when he was younger, courting women left and right. Esmeralda cocked a brow and Charles chuckled, "I shall teach you to play over a meal. Would you care to join me?"

Esmeralda was hesitant, but didn't seem the harm in playing a simple game. "I suppose I have grown quite hungry while being out here for so long." Charles held up his hands and Esmeralda didn't argue when he placed them upon her waist, helping her down from the stone fountain. "Lunch sounds nice, Your Grace."

* * *

A/N: **do note, Esmeralda is used to the hustle and bustle of France, performing and celebrating. basically, the Court isn't exactly what the Festival of Fools might be like. lol. just putting that out there.**


	4. Games & Obligations

**Games & Obligations**

* * *

Charles' jaw twitched as he watched Esmeralda take the last of the money he had with him. She winked and flipped a coin in the air. "Are you certain you've never played with these kinds of cards before, M'lady?" He asked in a low voice.

Esmeralda grinned, "I'm positive, Your Grace."

There were doubts. "You've won every last bit of money I have here at Court. I'm starting to think that maybe you—"

"Lied?" Esmeralda gave a devious look, "Oh wouldn't that be typical? A Gypsy lying her way into earning more money!"

Charles' brows scrunched in confusion for a moment, and then he lifted them with a faint smile, "More wine?" He asked, standing to head for the pitcher. Esmeralda stood and leaned her hip against the table they sat at in her chambers. "Forgive me for saying so, M'lady, but if you were to lie to me—I'd much advice you to never tell me. I am a Duke after all. Power is on my side." He smirked and refilled their cups.

Esmeralda lifted a brow, "Who's to say I wouldn't kill you afterward?"

Charles set down the pitcher, chuckling softly. "Who's to say you could succeed in such a task?"

With a swift movement, Esmeralda had her hand on the hilt of the Duke's sword and armed herself, tipping the blade dangerously close to his neck. "And who's to say I _couldn't_ succeed in such a task, Your Grace?"

Charles grinned, despite his current situation. "Point proven, M'lady." He said calmly and took a step back. "However, once you have the sword, it's a matter of how you handle it." He used his index finger to point the blade back down towards the floor. Charles slowly began to enclose the space between them, still very cautious. "Your stance was a bit off . . ." He let his words hang in the air, flashing the top row of his teeth as his grin held its place.

Esmeralda gave him a challenging look, "Care to correct me?"

"So you may have a better chance at killing me?" Charles laughed, "I rather not."

"A woman should know how to protect herself, no?" Esmeralda grew a bit closer and returned his sword to its rightful place, her eyes never leaving his.

Charles licked his lips, considering the statement for only a short second. "A woman shouldn't need to know how to protect herself with a true man in her life to do it for her." Charles, during this calming afternoon, found he quite enjoyed the time he spent with Esmeralda. She found fun in being challenged and liked to challenge others, as well. He grew fond of the looks she gave him when he attempted at saying something shrewd. He also grew _very_ fond of the smile that came with those looks.

Esmeralda poked a finger at the Duke's broad chest. "And I suppose you think yourself worthy of that title?" Her emerald eyes flickered with a teasing gleam, one Charles Brandon saw reflect off her smirk and the way she held herself.

"I couldn't say," Charles said truthfully, his eyes trailing down to her full lips and smooth neck. "Such a thing would have to be proven, not spoken."

"A wise way to put it." Esmeralda said absently, beginning to feel a bit distracted by the sensation bubbling in the pit of her stomach. "Your Grace—"

"—Charles." He said quietly.

Esmeralda held his stare, "Charles . . ." She felt strange saying his name for the first time, but it wasn't an awful sort of strange. "If I am not mistaken, you're going to try and kiss me." She placed a hand on her hip, an eye brow cocked, daring him to disagree.

Charles cracked another smile, realizing how close he had gotten to the beautiful Gypsy. "Only with your blessing, M'lady."

Esmeralda laughed, shaking her head. She let her hand drop from her hip and placed both on either side of the Duke's face gently. Without the slightest hesitation, Esmeralda crashed her lips against his, the two joining in a breath-taking kiss. She released with a smirk, "Esmeralda. Just Esmeralda."

Desperate for more, Charles nodded, "_Esmeralda_." The name slipped from his lips in a hushed tone, sending chills down Esmeralda's arms and legs. He watched her moisten her lips and he instantly leaned in for another kiss. Sliding his hand to the small of her back, Charles pulled her against him, starving for the feeling he once knew with a woman that was just as eager as he was. It had been long since Charles had kissed a woman, and in that moment, he felt as if it were the first time all over again.

Esmeralda grasped his shoulders tightly, reaching the highest she could while standing on the tips of her toes. She hadn't realized how tall Charles Brandon was until the urge to kiss his soft lips pounded in beat with her strong-guarded heart.

Suddenly, the doorman outside of the chamber pounded his cane against the floor and announced, "His Lordship, Clopin, King of the Gypsies."

Esmeralda tore herself away from the warm embrace she had tangled herself in and smoothed her violet skirt. Charles licked away her taste from his lips and straightened up quickly. The feeling he had then was uncertain. What had she felt? He knew it was nice—amazing, even—for him. But with her, it seemed a little harder to catch on to. She didn't give off certain emotions other women at Court would, as if everything was business. Was _he_ just business? Or, something like business? Charles felt the need for a certain amount of closure. Did she feel the same he did—did _she_ feel the same coldness he did when they parted?

Clopin stepped through with a content smile across his narrow face. He saw the presence of the Duke and bowed, "Oh! Your Grace."

Charles managed a tight smile. "_Monsieur _Clopin."

"I didn't expect to see you here!" Clopin held his hands behind his back and rocked back and forth on his heels, the bells on his feet jingling as he did so.

Esmeralda cleared her throat, "His Grace offered me lunch today, Clopin. As it was—" She gave a slight glare in the colorful clothed man's direction. "—I had nothing better to do with my time, seeing as work was out of the question."

Clopin rolled his dark eyes, "Say what you'd like, my friend." He turned his attention back to Charles, taking a few steps closer. "I thank you, Your Grace, for keeping the lovely Esmeralda entertained this afternoon." He said with a pat on the shoulder. "But, alas, we must practice for tonight's performance! If you would excuse us," Clopin took a step back, a hand across his chest.

Esmeralda folded her arms across her own chest and put her hip to a point, not very happy with the way Clopin seemed to find the Duke of Suffolk funny even when there was nothing to be laughed at.

"Ah, yes, of course." Charles replied smoothly. He bowed and made his way out, leaving what he wanted most.

Esmeralda bit her lip and when she turned, she saw Clopin was staring at her. "What?" She looked away and took a seat in front of her money pile she had won off Charles.

Clopin was silent and took a seat. "Oh, nothing." He put on a smile. "I've just returned from seeing the King again." He informed, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I believe we have become an important . . . _necessity_ to His Majesty."

"What does that mean for us?" Esmeralda asked, taking a sip of wine.

"Nothing bad," He responded with a shrug. "However, the closer we get to the King, the closer we get to gaining new enemies. The thing about Court, my friend," Clopin lowered his brows and leaned closer. "You can never trust anyone. Power is the game. The game is their death. We keep to ourselves—we stay alive. Do you understand?" Esmeralda nodded, but didn't bother speaking. Sitting back in his chair as if a weight had been lifted, he added, "We have just found our way out of the ring of fire, the target for destruction. It'd be a great shame to promise our heads to the sword _again_."

* * *

"Charles!" Henry looked up at his childhood friend with a smile on his face.

"Your Majesty." Charles bowed and took a seat across the king.

Henry set down his quill and folded his hands in his lap. The two sat in Henry's quiet study and Charles waited for what the King had to say. "How are you, Charles?"

"I am quite fine, Your Majesty." Charles smiled, "What about yourself?"

"Excellent!" Henry chuckled, "Are our guests enjoying their new luxuries?"

Charles gave a considering nod, "I have reason to believe so."

Henry smiled, "Good! I have appointed Monsieur Clopin as the official entertainer for my son. I spoke with him today and if what he says is true—Prince Edward rather enjoyed the puppeteer's show."

"That is great news, Your Majesty."

"I have a favor to ask of you." Henry announced casually. "I need a few of these letters delivered to Ambassador Bishop Chapuys directly." Reaching across the wooden desk, Henry placed two sealed letters in Charles' hands.

"Of course." Charles stood.

"Leave tonight, too. I would like his reply as quick as possible." Henry instructed and began scribbling something else down with his quill. "Thank you, Your Grace."

Charles made his proper exit and left for Spain.


	5. And We Shall Forget

A/N:** hey guys! so i hope you enjoy this chapter. please tell me what you think! **

* * *

**And We Shall Forget**

* * *

"Are there _really_ such things as dragons, _Monsieur_ Clopin?"

Clopin sprang up from his crouched position behind the small stage booth he performed behind. He smiled warmly at the young, blonde child; bright with rosy cheeks and gleaming blue eyes, just like his father's. "Some might say there are, Your Highness."

Edward Seymour sat in a chair beside Lady Bryan in the window-lit room. Prince Edward's toys were scattered along the floors in the midst of all his daily activities. The small bed he slept in was neatly kept and the white curtains were pulled back, streaming great beams of sunlight, glistening off the Prince's full head of rich, blonde curls. Edward Seymour saw his nephew was growing up awfully fast—and quiet well. Lady Bryan always gave a brief report of the Prince's success with his tutors, and the King was always glad to hear it.

The Prince also seemed to take a liking to these silly stories the Frenchmen, Clopin, brought to life with the puppets over his hands. Clopin had a puppet for almost every important man in Court, including the Dukes, Queen and the Lady Esmeralda.

Prince Edward had his legs crossed beneath him and sat back thoughtfully. "Do they know for _sure_, _Monsieur _Clopin?" He asked, his voice full of question and curiosity.

"That, Your Highness, I cannot say." Clopin said earnestly and slid off the fabricated puppets from his hands. "I met a man once—a very kind man—and he told me that sometimes, a dragon doesn't appear to be a dragon."

Behind the Prince, Edward chuckled, but his nephew grew only more interested. "Is that so? What does that mean?"

Clopin waved his hand in the air casually as he spoke, "Well, you see, not all dragons have scales or beastly eyes." Clopin wiggled his fingers to appear to be the slightest bit intimidating, adding an effect on his words the Prince giggled at. "Some wear boots!"

"_Boots_?" Edward laughed, flashing the space where his front teeth hadn't grown in yet.

"Yes!" Clopin nodded, "They wear boots and sometimes, even, hats! They walk on two legs—just as you and I do—and they _speak_! They speak all different languages!"

"Why—" Edward cocked his brows up high, "That just seems like normal people, _Monsieur_! Are you sure this man was talking about actual _dragons_?"

Clopin chuckled, "You Highness," He took a seat a few feet away from the Prince, bringing his knees up to his chest and leaning back on the palms of his gloved hands. "I am _sure_ this man was talking about dragons! I'm positive. Do you know how I know?" Edward shook his head, curls bouncing in the process. "Some dragons _are_, indeed, people. Dragons are vicious creatures at times, Your Highness. They live to destroy—as some people are."

There was a moment of silence that clung to the air and Edward Seymour shifted a bit in his seat.

"Ah, but," Clopin smiled then, lightening up the gray with a new color. "When you meet one of these dragons—I shall read about it when the day comes you slay one! You'll be a strong man one day, I have no doubt."

Prince Edward smiled gleefully, "I shall slay many dragons, _Monsieur_!"

Clopin stared dazedly at the young child, his mind gone astray in his own thoughts. His own memories. Ones of the past and ones of his nightmares. Not many had been found to be truthful when they say they had slayed a dragon—but Clopin was sure if he were to take the title 'a killer', it would only be caused by the slaying of the dragon he so wished to be defeated. Burned by his own fire. "I am sure you will, Your Highness . . ."

Edward hopped onto his small feet. "Would you like to see my sword?" He asked with his smile still in tact.

Brought back to the moment at hand, Clopin hopped onto his own two feet and placed his hands on his hips. "That sounds like a marvelous idea, Your Highness!"

"Such words said from quite a man." Lady Bryan said faintly, watching as the Prince found his sword under a pile of toys and revealed it to the French puppeteer.

The Duke cracked a smile that quickly faded. "Indeed, Lady Bryan," He watched, as well, taking in every movement the two made. This man was quite the performer. He always drifted off in the middle of conversing with the boy and then regained his energy within seconds. He must have made note to watch his words because, in fact, the Gypsy was a wise one—but always kept his lectures short and when they became _too_ serious, he lightened them up with even fewer words. Edward often worried about what exactly this Gypsy trailed off in thought about and if there were other motives hidden behind that mask. "Indeed."

* * *

Charles Brandon had woken up tired. It made no sense to him.

He'd gotten plenty of sleep and was gifted a highly comfortable bed while he waited another day to see Ambassador Bishop Chapuys. Unfortunately, the Ambassador of Spain had come down with a small fever and was put to bed rest for the day before Charles was promised an audience.

In the meantime, Charles had rested himself but woke up restless and a bit on edge. He laid in bed most of the afternoon, thinking. He thought about Katherine and his son. He thought about how comfortable he felt in the guest bed and how uncomfortable his newest set of trousers were. Then he thought about Esmeralda. His last meeting with her seemed too short to bare. A part of him felt rather guilty for leaving without the slightest goodbye. Yet, he knew she probably didn't mind. She had business—as he did—to attend to.

Though, Charles could still picture her face before their lips were finally linked together.

Then there were the ghosts.

He had only seen one since in Spain. A small girl with a bright smile. She had danced along his bedside, asking him to join her. She giggled and swayed and he stayed in bed, almost chanting to himself not to acknowledge her presence. When he would not look at her, she cried for her mother and screamed at him that he was the cause of her absence—that he murdered her. Charles jaw tightened furiously and he would almost shout, but caught himself every time. She wasn't really there.

None of them were.

There was a knock at the door and Charles stood, fully dressed and ready to see the Ambassador. "Enter." He said and prepared himself with the letters from King Henry.

A servant to Chapuys came through with a tight expression, "His Excellency would like to see you now. Though, he warns His Grace not to approach so close. He is still in bed and his fever_ has_ gone down—but the Ambassador cares for the health of the Duke to His Majesty."

Charles nodded and followed the servant out. He had always thought Chapuys a good man. He had always been there for the Lady Mary—who meant a great deal to Charles. Mary had grown into a fine young woman, one that had not been treated so kindly. If it weren't for the Ambassador, Charles was sure there'd be more dismay throughout the kingdom. More dismay that no one wanted.

The servant led Charles into a room down the hall where Chapuys lay, looking slightly paled. "Your Excellency." The servant bowed and made his way out without another word.

Chapuys' lids fluttered open heavily and he gave a faint smile in the Duke's direction. "Ah, Your Grace." He said and pulled himself up into a sitting position.

"Your Excellency." Charles gave a light bow and sat down in a chair near the Ambassador's large bed. "How are you?" He asked sincerely, not enjoying the older man's distress.

Chapuys made a considering gesture and folded his hands in his lap. "I am getting healthy again. The Lord has granted me the ability to do so. I may be back at Court in a few days or so. How is the Lady Mary?"

Charles smiled, "She is doing well, Your Excellency." That, at least, he could give the Ambassador. A sense of closure. The man cared for Mary probably more than any suitor. He was like the father she needed.

"Good." Chapuys cleared his throat. "What is it that you have for me, Your Grace?" Chapuys noticed the folded letters in Charles' hand and wondered.

"Ah, yes." Charles stood and handed Chapuys the letters. "These are from His Majesty. He requested I bring them to you in person." He sat back in his chair and positioned himself comfortably. "I do not know why, but I presume it is rather important."

"I see." Chapuys fondled with on of the letters between his cold hands. He suddenly locked eyes with the Duke. "Is it true His Majesty has accepted a gift from King Francis?"

Charles wasn't taken back by the question. He had been expecting it. What else was there to expect but the rumors spread like a untamed fire? "Yes, it is true." Chapuys looked uncertain, but Charles quickly added, "But I can assure you, Your Excellency, they have brought much good to Court. His Majesty takes a strong liking to these new people. Have you heard of them? The Gypsies? I had not until recently."

"_Gypsies_?" Chapuys chuckled, "Of course, Your Grace." Charles leaned forward, pressing his elbows into his thighs. Starring off out to the darkening sky across the glass of his window, the Ambassador continued, "I have seen many . . . good people they are, yes. Some are a little on the trickery side, but when it comes down to it, I'm afraid everyone is."

Charles noticed the change of pitch in the Spanish Ambassador's voice. "What is burdening you, Ambassador?"

"I met a man once . . ." Chapuys began absently. "He was a very vicious man. He was a judge in France. On the outside, he seemed to be like any other man. He judged with the right sort of justice—but there was something . . . _odd_ about this judge. He had this strong hatred for the Gypsies. He burned many, imprisoned others. I only met him once while attending to business in France. Even in that short time, I knew something was going horribly astray."

Charles arched a brow, "What exactly are you saying, Excellency?"

"I'm saying—" Chapuys wet his cracked lips and looked at Charles strictly, "You must be careful. If my views on this man were correct, he will find his way to Gypsies and have his way with their kind. If anyone were to get themselves attached to one while at Court . . ." The Ambassador shook his head disbelievingly. "Well, I could only imagine the events that could take place if such a thing were to happen! They'd be dragged down with the Gypsies just as fast as they could place a hold on one." There was a pause. "They're dangerous people, Your Grace. Even the good can be awfully bad. I'm trusting you'll see to it that your Court remains safe from the shadows that are chained to this . . . _gift_."

Charles smiled, "If it puts yourself at peace, of course." He hadn't seen any such man at Court and the Gypsies always kept to themselves. Such as, Clopin. Although, now Charles could see why. If what the Ambassador was telling him was true, there was no doubt in Charles' mind it—_the man_—left scars in every one of their heads. Something no one would want to bring up in just any casual conversation. "What was his name, Ambassador?" Charles asked curiously.

Chapuys smiled lightly, looking down at the letter held tightly in his hand. "Claude Frollo. A name I so wish to forget, Your Grace."


	6. Maybe Love

**Maybe Love**

* * *

Esmeralda tucked some hair behind her ear and sighed. She looked down at the thick wine in her glass and circled it around, feeling utterly bored. At the table she stood near, two men gawked at her beauty and gave her slurred compliments due to their own intake of wine. She simply nodded her head and continued on to another table.

"I have yet to see any two headed monsters or women with snakes for hair here at this court." Esmeralda mumbled as she took a seat next to Clopin, currently shuffling around his fortune cards.

Clopin's brows were forced down as he concentrated, "I'm sorry to hear that, my friend." He said distantly, scooting away plates of half eaten food in search for a few coins he had earned during his performance. "Where are you earnings?" He asked, in a sudden worried tone.

Esmeralda placed her cheek in her palm sluggishly, "They are safely tucked away, oh caring one."

"Where—Oh. I should know better than to ask." Clopin went on with his business and began counting the coins in his small pouch that always stayed hooked to his belt.

"And why would you even look for such things?" asked Gypsy woman across Esmeralda, decorated with silky robes and narrow brown eyes. Her hair lay flat and down to her narrow waist. She was older and much more submissive in the minded sense.

Esmeralda looked over at her with a smile, "What else would there be to look for?"

"Anything but that, I could assure you. Here, we are safe. Here, we might be in search for brighter—more gentle things." The woman smiled down at her hands, fiddling with a part of her dress. "Maybe love."

Clopin snorted, "Love? My dear, the only love you should ever search for in a place like _this _is the love for yourself. Without that you might not live enough to even love that piece of food on your plate you have yet to touch." Esmeralda watched as Clopin reached across the table and took the food for himself, chewing as he continued on counting.

"Come," said a large muscled Gypsy man with little hair upon his head. He held out his hand to the bashful Gypsy woman in hope she would take it. She did and he smiled. "It is our turn to dance, my lovely. If you wish, that is."

The woman glared back at Clopin, answering, "Of course I would!" With that, they were off, enjoying the remaining time of the night.

"You shouldn't have talked to her like that, Clopin." Esmeralda said.

Clopin glanced over at his friend knowingly. "And _you_ know, Esmeralda, she should not be talking about such foolish things at a time like this." He sighed, "We are not here for affection, we are here to earn what we can. Do what we can. She will get herself _killed_ being so naïve."

Esmeralda knew he was right, but she would not admit that out loud in the tone of voice he took with her then. "I suppose it's time for me to head in for the night. I'm tired and tomorrow I'm assuming you would like me to perform my new dance?"

Clopin saw the look on her face and instantly felt disgusted with himself. He was acting like a selfish bastard. He had slacked in watching his tongue. Especially around her. "Esmeralda. I apologize for my behavior. You know—"

"I know." Esmeralda smiled lightly. "Your protecting our people, the ones you love most. I know." She placed a kiss on his cheek and made her way to her chambers alone.

Sitting on his throne, the King watched his wife twirl and dance. However, there was frown on his face. He was uncomfortable. Irritated. "Your Grace." He said harshly and Charles turned slightly in his seat next to the King at the large dinner table.

"Your Majesty?"

"What of the Ambassador?" He asked, his fingers resting against his temple while his other hand fondled with the goblet of wine on the table, turning it so that the wine almost came splashing out across the table's decorative cloth.

Charles responded quickly, "He has informed me he will return to Court as soon as his fever as broken completely. Unless, of course, Your Majesty would like him to return sooner for urgent matters."

Henry rolled his eyes with a huff, "And the French Ambassador? Where is he?"

"France, Your Majesty." Charles answered hesitantly.

Before saying anything else, Henry noticed Esmeralda was making her way out without a second look back. "Our Lady Esmeralda must have not enjoyed this night at Court." He thought aloud, alerting Charles at the least. "She isn't the only one." Henry looked at the crowd with narrow eyes and winced when his leg bumped the leg of Catherine's empty seat next to him. "If I was in better condition—younger, maybe—I would have already bedded her and all her lovely looks." The King smirked to himself then. "She doesn't have the body of the women here in England, wouldn't you say, Charles?"

Charles' jaw twitched and he averted his eyes elsewhere. "I suppose, Your Majesty." He blocked his mind from thinking beyond anything but a kiss when it came to the King and Esmeralda. Anything farther than that and anger would need to be soothed.

The King chuckled, "More wine?"

* * *

There were footsteps along the outside of Esmeralda's chambers and she ignored the noises. She had sat at her table and read for a good while before finding her dress uncomfortable for the mood she was in. The moon was bright outside her window and the candles along her room cast a dim, golden light that put her into a bit of ease. Though, she wished she could see the twinkling of colored glass hang through the candles' shine, like back in Notre Dame with Quasimodo. He always found a way to make things shine.

Standing, Esmeralda ventured over to find a soft nightgown. She stripped off the remains of her working clothes—jewelry, bands, belts with small bells, layers of skirts and a bodice with stripes. Esmeralda noticed the more she put on, the more people looked at her. It was revolting, really. People only notice the pretty faces.

More people passed by her door and Esmeralda ignored them all the more. They didn't bother her. Everyone seemed to be in some sort of hurry here.

As she slid on her robe before finding her preferred gown, though, someone opened her door and entered quickly. Esmeralda shot up straight and pulled her robe across her body tightly. She spun around, eyes narrowed. "_Excuse_ me!" She said angrily. "What do you think you're doing—" _Charles_.

"I . . ." Charles looked a bit flushed at the sight before his eyes. "You left without saying goodbye." He managed in his low voice, attempting at a smile.

Esmeralda slanted her head to the side, a brow raised. "_I_ left without saying goodbye?" She grew closer, mimicking his own movements.

"Court," He resorted. "You left Court without saying goodbye."

"You left the country without saying goodbye." Esmeralda kept her hand tight on her robe, almost tighter now that she was only a few feet away from a man that drove her mind crazy.

Charles chuckled, "I . . . I suppose you're right."

A smile bloomed across Esmeralda's face and she pressed her body against his, embracing him as if he'd been gone for months. Her arms hooked securely around his neck as she rested her head against his shoulder. Charles wasn't the slightest bit taken back by her actions. He felt his heart pound against his ribs and he smiled into the moment with his cheek pressed against her head. "I missed you." He whispered, his brows coming down together in symbolization he meant his words.

Esmeralda inched away, but not far enough to detach her body from his, and smiled warmly. Her green eyes were gentle and captivating. She looked at him with a certain kind of longing that Charles couldn't help but notice. "You weren't gone that long." She said teasingly.

Charles laughed with a smile that reached his eyes. "And by the grace of God, that'll be the last I'll ever have to be gone again for a long, _long_ while." His voice had faded into a hushed tone as he leaned in close, his lips grazing hers. "But no promises."

Esmeralda shook her head and gripped his shirt in her hands tightly, bringing him even closer with his forehead pressed against hers. "I don't need promises. Not now."

With a grin, Charles captured her lips with his and pulled her tight against him once again. They kissed and their tongues began in a dance of pleasure, making Charles groan into the sensation. He spun them around and let her drop, sprawled across her bed in a beautiful manner. He tugged off his cloak and thicker shirt, climbing over her while his eyes feasted upon the Gypsy with lust growing stronger every blink.

Esmeralda sat up gradually, her robe spreading open slightly without her hand to keep it in place. She scooted back, inviting him to follow. Charles was hesitant, not wanting to pressure her into anything, now that he realized where this might lead. Looking then, he saw that her front that faced him was shadowed but not her eyes. _Those eyes_. They appeared to be even brighter now than he remembered. She was what he couldn't contain himself from. He wanted her. He needed her.

Charles followed over her slowly, looking down at the small sliver of brown flesh he could see from the opened robe. It was a delicious sight to his eyes. He had never touched a woman with such features as hers. Curls—many English women had them—but not like Esmeralda's. Her's were wild and beautiful. Though her skin was darker than the women at Court, it called for him just as much. Her lips were set and full, tasteful against his craving mouth. The fire within his veins grew stronger just at the thought of her.

And the King—the King would never touch her like this if Charles could help it. She was his. He hadn't said it aloud, but he felt it all over. She was something to _cherish_, not just bed.

Just before his hands could wonder aimlessly, Esmeralda had his thin white shirt in her fists once more and pinned him down against the pillows. Charles looked up at her, a bit flushed by the sudden action. He then began to believe he had done something wrong. Charles parted his lips to speak, but was silenced with a rough, nose crushing kiss.

Esmeralda broke away and sat up straight, her legs straddling his hips with a perfect fit. She saw Charles' bright eyes travel up her body, stopping at her breasts that were slightly uncovered now. They heaved up and down with every breath she took. Too comfortable under that heated stare, she didn't bother with fixing her robe. The looks Charles gave her were enough to send ten hundred hearts thumping madly. "What of your wife?" She asked quietly, playing with the drawstrings of his shirt.

Charles' breath caught and he straightened his lips in a firm line, sighing through his nose. He turned his head and looked at the fire while resting his hands on Esmeralda's hips lightly. He didn't want to think about Katherine. Anyone but her. Now was his time to be selfish, not hers. At first, Katherine had every right to be upset with him. Now, it seemed, it would be the time to forgive and forget. Was it not? "She does not love me any longer." He said calmly, his lips barely moving.

"Do you believe I should love you then?" Esmeralda questioned. She knew all too well it was clear the Duke had a wife. A man of his status should never be without a woman to take to Court and to give him plenty children. Esmeralda was not the one to bed another woman's man. That sort of sin rattled in the back of her head. She had more respect for herself than that.

Yet, Charles called out to her in silent words. Ones she couldn't keep herself from hearing. She had loved once, and it ended all too soon. Even then, something wasn't as it was now. But one thing was for certain: no matter how much the connection between her and Charles, stronger than hers with Phoebus, burned with passion—she would not be a whore. _His_ whore. Esmeralda would curse herself before that day came.

A part of her wanted to feed the longing deep down. Staring down at Charles—his perfectly sculpted neck and chin, the way he blinked slowly while in his own thoughts, his blue eyes shielded slightly by long lashes—Esmeralda almost found it impossible to resist. He was beautiful. And every time he held her in his stare, he only turned that hunger of longing into an utter starvation.

Charles looked up at her then, his expression hard. "No." He said, adjusting a hand to cradle the back of his head while the other stayed in its place. "I don't expect you to love me. I've done horrible things. Hurt many people—many women."

Esmeralda ran her fingers across his scruffy cheek. "That doesn't make you a bad man forever. Some people are capable of change." She said with a small smile. Though she saw no happy ending to this affair, Esmeralda didn't see any shame in helping a person's heart mend—just as hers did years ago. "Still, that doesn't mean I'll share your bed, Charles Brandon."

Chuckling, Charles replied, "Oh? Then what exactly are you planning to do in a position like this?" He gave her body another quick scan, his jaw giving a slight twitch.

"It's the perfect position to commit a murder." Esmeralda said as she leaned close, making her robe spread further apart. Charles couldn't help but notice the more skin that was revealed in the process. His eyes darted up when she caught his chin in her hand, jerking his head upwards and away from her breasts and naked torso. Though she knew this was trouble, it had always been somewhere in her nature to play with fire. "Wouldn't you agree, Your Grace?"

Charles stayed quiet for a moment and then flipped them over, pinning her down with his body. Esmeralda hadn't seen it coming and gasped at the sudden—but lovely—weight upon her. She looked up and was swallowed hole by the deep gaze. "I like this position better, M'lady." Charles said huskily, a grin stole across his face.

Esmeralda watched as he hovered his lips above hers, lingering in a slight tease. She grinned back and looped her arms around his neck, her fingers running through his soft, brown curls at the base of his neck. "I'll bet you on it."

Kissing her neck gently, Charles chuckled, "Play with your lips, love, not the cards."

* * *

A/N: **okay, so i hope no one thought that was overly smutty. i don't believe it was. yes, it was on the boarderline of Rated T, but honestly, there was detail lacking and there was no sexual intercorse actually stated. lol X) therefore: no hardcore smutty goodness. not really a big smut writer anyway. **

**so, i hope you liked the chapter! tell me what you think :)**


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